


we shoot for the stars

by orlesiantitans



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Armin Arlert is a Disaster Gay, Background Relationships, First Kiss, M/M, Modern Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Pining, Reiner Braun/Eren Yeager - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28652121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orlesiantitans/pseuds/orlesiantitans
Summary: He vaguely remembers Mikasa laughing hysterically at a video a few weeks ago that contained the words I ain’t never seen two pretty best friends, and Armin kind of wants to take a picture of these two guys to prove they do exist.Then Jean puts his arm around the taller guy’s shoulder, and Armin realises they aren’t two pretty best friends. They are two pretty boyfriends. He kind of wants to die.OrArmin joins the gym and gets more than he bargained for
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein, Armin Arlert/Marco Bott, Armin Arlert/Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70





	we shoot for the stars

_ Why wait until New Year for a new you? _

The flyer that had been posted through their door is predictably garish, flashy letters accompanied by some huge, muscled guy who looks like he could demolish a house on his own and a much shorter woman doing a one-handed handstand who is strong enough to have some muscle, but not to be  _ muscly _ . It’s almost definitely one of the many gyms Eren has signed up to and promptly quit trying to get him back.

Rolling his eyes at it, Armin is ready to throw it in the trash. It’s pretty much the pinnacle of the straight male fantasy, and besides - he’s never been to the gym in his life. He doesn’t need to worry about that stuff - why would he? He’s got brains.  _ Perhaps _ he’d like it if he was able to keep up with Mikasa and Eren a  _ little _ better, but he doesn’t think he’s missing out that much by not joining in their protein-shake drinking, Gymshark-wearing posse. He’s just fine.

Then, he walks through the door into their front room, and Mikasa is on the ground, sweat running off her forehead as her abs flex on every rep of her sit-ups. “Got the mail?” she says, without taking a break. 

“Y-yeah,” Armin replies, looking back down towards the pile in his hands. Most of it is boring stuff - late Christmas cards, letters from his grandpa - who still hasn’t mastered the ancient art form known as ‘email’. And that flyer, with  **_25% OFF IF YOU SIGN UP BEFORE JANUARY 12TH_ ** emblazoned across the front. Slipping it into his hoodie pocket, Armin turns back to Mikasa with a smile and tries to hide the fact he’s just given in to the capitalist system profiting off people’s desire to get fit. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

He hears her vague acknowledgement and the snap of his door slipping closed before he boots up his laptop, chewing at his bottom lip as he does so. ‘Fitwear for men’, he types in, and tries his best not to balk at the prices. 

And the pictures of the men wearing them. How is he  _ ever _ going to fit into  _ those _ ?

* * *

Balancing on one foot as he tries to put in a contact lens, Armin tries to ignore Mikasa’s judging gaze on his back. “Can’t you put it in with both feet on the ground?” she asks sarcastically. Armin resists the urge to glare at her. 

“I don’t judge you when you’re standing with your mouth half-open to put mascara on,” he replies. 

Eren laughs from the couch, “Y’know, Mikasa, he’s got a point.”

That laughter is abruptly caught short, just as Armin gets his contact in. “Why don’t you just wear your glasses to the gym?” she asks next, and he looks over his shoulder. She’s slightly less blurry, but he can still see the judgement in her expression. 

“Because they’d fall off my face and I’d break them.”

“Couldn’t you get one of those… y’know, harnesses for glasses? The strings you put around them?” Eren pipes up. 

“Yes, because looking like a sixty year old librarian would  _ definitely _ work with these… things I’ve bought,” Armin mutters, gesturing to his clothing. He feels completely ridiculous in them - his knees are too knobbly and his arms barely have any muscle on them at all, and he hadn’t been able to put on a warm cardigan or any of his usual hoodies, either. It was embarrassing. He should’ve just bought a cheap pair of sweatpants. 

Mikasa sighs, “Don’t worry about it, Armin. Nobody’ll be focused on you there. You’ll be the least of their worries. At the gym, everyone’s trying to better themselves.”

Standing up, Eren grabs his keys at the door. “I’m off to see Reiner. I’ll give you a lift there.”

Logically, Armin knows that this is just a ploy to keep him off the bus, but he can’t help but feel grateful. He grabs his bag and smiles at Eren as they leave, and wonders if this wasn’t such a mistake after all.

* * *

This was a mistake. 

Armin stands in the locker room, sweat pouring off of him, and stares at his reflection. His cheeks are red with exertion, his skin is shining, and his new clothes are wet. 

“...man, do you have any deodorant?”

Turning in horror, Armin looks at the man who’d just addressed him. Standing there like a male model is a shirtless man with light brown hair, green eyes, and a bemused smile on his face. And he’s asking if Armin has deodorant. The blond instantly feels his cheeks heat up more -  _ how is that even possible?! _ \- and he squeaks.

Barely resisting the urge to sniff himself, Armin lets out a high-pitched  _ “What?!” _

“Do you have any deodorant? I left mine at home, and I could do with some before we head in,” he says, and Armin - struck dumb - reaches into his bag without a word and hands the man his deodorant. It’s not Lynx Africa, but the guy sprays on a generous amount before handing it back to Armin - who is, admittedly, still mildly fascinated by the muscles in this guy’s arms. 

Another man wanders into the room, and rolls his eyes, “Jean, are you seriously pilfering other people’s stuff again?” he asks. And this guy is  _ just as gorgeous _ as ‘Jean’, a little chubby with freckles across his nose and a friendly smile on his lips. He vaguely remembers Mikasa laughing hysterically at a video a few weeks ago that contained the words  _ I ain’t never seen two pretty best friends _ , and Armin kind of wants to take a picture of these two guys to prove they do exist.

Then Jean puts his arm around the taller guy’s shoulder, and Armin realises they aren’t two  _ pretty best friends _ . They are two  _ pretty  _ **_boy_ ** _ friends _ . He kind of wants to die. 

“C’mon, Marco, lighten up. Or were you hoping I’d stink so you could get in the shower with me later?” Jean asks, waggling his eyebrows.

“I am so sorry about him,” Marco says without missing a beat, glancing at Armin with a light blush across his cheeks. 

Snapping out of his reverie, Armin shakes his head and waves a hand stepping back to put the deodorant back in his back, half tripping on his way. “No, no, don’t, uh, worry about it. I just. I was honestly worried you were gonna ask me to put it on because I’m all…” he gestures over himself. 

“What? No,” Jean shakes his head. “Don’t worry about being a bit sweaty. Just proves you’re doing it right. That’s why there are showers here, after all.”

Marco smiles encouragingly, “I can still barely last half an hour in there, so you’ll be fine! Hey, maybe you could come and work out with us? I could do with a friend when I’m done and he’s still lifting weights.”

Next thing he knows, Armin has two very pretty boys’ numbers in his phone, and he’s on his way back home, hair still wet from the shower. Mikasa glances up when he flops facedown on the sofa, and he hears a pitying noise. 

“Was it that bad?” she asks, and he groans. 

“Yes,” he mumbles. “And then two pretty boys showed up.”

He can almost hear her frown. “And that’s a bad thing? I know you’re a disaster gay, Armin, but-”

“Two pretty boyfriends.”

“Oh,” a pause. “Well, threeso-”

_ That _ word is quickly cut off with a pillow thrown in her general direction. 

* * *

“How does he keep going like that?” Armin asks Marco one day, around two weeks after they initially met. His stamina’s steadily improving, but he still finds himself needing to break off a good bit earlier than Jean does. It would be embarrassing if not for the fact Marco is in quite the same boat, and the other boy glances down at him with a bright grin, cheeks flushed under his freckles.

“Don’t ask me. Once Jean gets started on these things, he’s like a machine,” he replies, taking a long pull from his water bottle. It’s a second before Armin has to look away, distracted by the way his throat moves as he does it, or the way his lips are closed around the lip of the bottle, or…  _ Armin, you big pervert, stop thinking about it! _

He spins his own bottle around as a distraction, “You two are cute together.”

When he looks back up, Marco seems to have flushed a little more, and his head tilts forwards, hair falling forward with the movement. “Ha, thanks. Don’t get me wrong, Jean is a handful, but he’s my handful,” his eyes widen with the words. “Wait, that sounds wrong. I didn’t mean - well, I mean he - oh  _ God _ , help me-”

‘God’ appears in the form of Jean, who throws one sweaty arm around his boyfriend, “Aw, honey, I didn’t know you were calling me God in  _ public _ now.”

Somehow, Marco gets even more embarrassed, and he buries his head in his hands. “Not helping, Jean.”

The laugh he gets in return suggests Jean knows  _ exactly _ what they were talking about prior to his arrival, and he doesn’t look at all embarrassed. It’s something Armin’s learned about these two in the last couple of weeks - Jean is unabashed, and isn’t at all private. Marco is far more reserved, certainly, and while it’s obvious he loves his boyfriend, it’s  _ also _ obvious he isn’t overly into PDA. Either way, he reluctantly puts up with it for Jean’s benefit. 

When they get to the changing rooms, Jean immediately strips off his shirt, throwing it in a polythene bag. “Bleugh. Sweaty clothes are gross. Shower time,” he sings the last part, pulling Marco behind him by the hand. “Hey, Armin. Could you throw your shampoo over the top when you’re done.”

That brings a grin to Armin’s face. “Let me guess. You left yours at home?”

If there’s one thing he’s learned about Jean, it’s that he’s notorious for forgetting something every time he comes to the gym. The other boy throws an arm around his shoulders and grins. “Bingo. Always knew you were a clever one.”

“Or he just pays attention? One day you’ll have to walk home without a shirt on because you’ll forget a change of clothes, and I won’t feel any pity,” Marco tells him. He’s not as casual about nudity as Jean is, and he has his towel and change of clothes ready just outside the shower. 

_ Not that Jean walks around naked, _ Armin reminds himself.  _ He wears a towel. That’s gotta count for something.  _

It counts for very little, in Armin’s mind, but he has to remind himself of something. He’s growing used to their bickering, their relationship, but what had started off as  _ oh no, they’re cute _ has been festering into  _ oh no, I like them _ . 

“I’m not giving anyone my shirt,” Armin says, and Jean grins.

“No offence, Armin, but I think your shirt would be more of a crop top on me,” he strikes a ridiculous pose that draws a laugh out of Armin, and then he pulls Marco into the shower. It’s normal, for those two to share, so Armin just gets into the other one and tries not to be too loud when he bashes his head against the wall.

“We’re just workout buddies,” he mumbles with each hit. “We’re just workout buddies.”

He has to remind himself of it a little more strictly when Jean comes out smelling like tea tree and strawberry, but it doesn’t stop the things his traitorous heart is doing.

* * *

“So you’re just friends,” Eren says, sitting forwards on the sofa. “But you’re going over to their house for dinner.”

“Friends eat dinner, Eren. We eat dinner all the time,” Armin reminds him. Honestly, he thinks Eren and Mikasa are reading  _ way too much _ into all of this. It’s obvious that Jean and Marco are very much into each other, and just because he’s gay and Marco’s gay and Jean’s bi doesn’t mean they’re going to sleep together. Honestly. 

_ Even if I want to, a little bit _ , his traitorous mind pipes up. Right up until something hits him. He looks down at the floor, and then back at Eren.

“Why did you just throw a condom at my head?”

Eren raises his hands into the air. “Hey, better safe than sorry,” he shrugs. “I have lube for you, too. Here.”

He puts a bottle down in front of Armin. “Did you seriously buy me a litre of… why would I need a litre? And anyway! I don’t need you to buy me it!”

“To be fair, you wouldn’t buy it yourself,” Mikasa pipes up from the corner, fingers flying over the on-screen keyboard of her phone. Armin isn’t entirely sure what she does on that thing, and he’s not sure he wants to know. Probably planning world domination with Levi, or something. “Besides, you should use plenty, anyway. When it comes to anal intercourse, you’ll find that mo-”

“Mikasa I don’t want or need you to tell me about… that!”

She shrugs, unbothered, when Eren speaks up, “I mean, she’s not wrong, though. Unless you like a bit of a burn, it can be nice sometimes. Reiner always makes sure-”

Hands throwing up in the air, Armin makes to march out of the apartment, stopping only to half-slip his shoes on and grab his jacket. He doesn’t need either of them to lecture him on anal sex. 

_ Just because I’m a virgin. God. It’s like they think I don’t do research! _

Admittedly, a bunch of Wikipedia articles and  _ that _ Teen Vogue article probably weren’t the best sources of information, but he already knows way too much about his childhood friends and their sex lives with their respective partners. He doesn’t need even more evidence that they’ve already done it.

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, and feels something that definitely wasn’t there last time. Pulling it out, his eyes instantly widen in horror. A passing mother gives him a disapproving look - no wonder, he’s holding a condom out in public, and he glares at the note attached - quite clearly from Eren.

_ Have fun😀 _

He’s going to kill him.

* * *

The pasta is quite possibly the best he’s ever tasted. “My mom taught me how to cook,” Marco says as Armin grabs another serving. “I mean. I’m Italian and German, so I guess I never had a chance of being skinny like  _ some people _ .”

Armin laughs, “I mean, my cooking skills are pretty much limited to ‘ramen’. It’s nice to have real food once in a while.”

A poke to his ribs comes from Jean, “Don’t say that. Marco’ll send you away with millions of leftovers. He’s a mother hen.”

That makes Armin laugh, his whole face lighting up with it, and when he looks back at the two of them, they’re watching him with strange expressions on their faces. He’s never seen them look like that, and he looks between them in confusion. Breaking the silence, Marco stands up and gets another glass of water for himself, not-so-subtly kicking Jean’s chair as he goes past. 

“Is everything alright?” Armin asks.

Jean laughs awkwardly, “Oh, it’s fine. Hey, how’s that new lab placement of yours going?”

“Good! I’ve got pictures, actually, I’ll just go and get my phone.”

Standing up Jean waves a hand dismissively. “I got it,” he says, half-tripping over his own feet on the way to Armin’s jacket, getting a  _ look _ from Marco for his clumsiness. He digs around in Armin’s pocket for a second before his expression freezes - just like Armin does.

_ I should have thrown it in the trash. _

“Um…” Jean pulls the condom out from his jacket pocket and raises an eyebrow. “You, uh, seeing anyone?”

“No!” Armin squeaks out in horror. “No, no, no. It’s just… Eren, my roommate, he… it’s… complicated!”

Marco frowns from the side, cheeks tinged pink. “Isn’t ‘Eren your roommate’ in a relationship with… what’s his name? Reiner? Unless you’re doing polyamory or whatever - which is fine!”

A thump resounds throughout the apartment as Armin’s head hits the table. “I’m not sleeping with Eren and/or Reiner.”

“Did you just use ‘and/or’ in an actual, real-life sentence?” Jean asks, but Armin just lets out a distressed groan in response. 

Why hadn’t he thrown it out? In fairness, he hadn’t anticipated Jean reaching into his pocket, but that doesn’t change the fact that he walked into the house of his two friends (slash crushes) with a condom in his pocket. A condom his best friend had given him in anticipation of them sleeping together. 

Standing up, Armin goes over and puts his jacket on, giving them both an embarrassed smile, his second helping of pasta half-finished on his plate. “I should go. I mean. I have classes early tomorrow morning.”

Marco comes over in concern and loops two fingers around his wrist in a loose grasp. “You don’t have to do that, Armin, you’re okay-”

With an apologetic smile, Armin leaves. 

* * *

“So let me get this straight,” Reiner says from his place on an armchair, a short way away from where Armin is lying on the sofa, feeling like he’s at a therapy session with the worst therapists in history. “You’re saying they were looking at you funny, they were tripping over things, Marco was kicking Jean’s chair, and you just…”

“What are you on about?” Armin asks, looking over from his position on the sofa, before pouting at the sight of Eren leaning against the larger blond and returning his eyes to the ceiling. 

“He’s saying that they are  _ totally _ into you. And you ran away. Like an idiot,” Mikasa pipes up, chin resting on her hand. It seems unnecessarily mean, but she’s rarely wrong. 

Except she  _ has _ to be. There’s no way Jean and Marco are into him. They’re into  _ each other _ , and they don’t need him butting into their relationship. He’d just be a hindrance, a problem, and yet…

Shared looks across the gym, a hand on his thigh on the bus ride home, and those  _ looks _ at dinner…

“Oh my God!” Armin sits up, and immediately slips his sneakers on, and is out the door before any of them can react.

With a sigh and a raised eyebrow, Mikasa stares at the door. “Does he… know that it’s raining outside and that this  _ isn’t _ a romcom?” 

“I don’t think he cares,” Eren replies, also staring at the door. 

With a grin, Reiner stands up and hoists Eren over his shoulder. “He’ll be fine. With any luck he’ll have two boyfriends to take care of him soon. As it is, I have  _ one _ boyfriend to take care of.”

They head off to his room and Mikasa rolls her eyes, turning them back to her phone.

* * *

Soaked to the bone and freezing, Armin presses the doorbell of Marco and Jean’s apartment repeatedly. When Jean finally arrives at the door, he takes stock of Armin’s appearance and then lets him in. “Hey, we were worried. You left quickly earlier. God, you’re soaked, come on…”

From his place on the couch, Marco stands up and immediately jumps into ‘worried’ mode.  _ “Armin.” _

“Just… give me a minute?” Armin asks, and Jean jumps back like he’s been burned. Both look contrite, as if they’ve done something wrong, and Armin files that away for later. “Do you guys…  _ like _ me?”

Both of them pale, and Marco clears his throat. “It’s not… something we expect anything from, I mean it. We’re not - it’s just. You’re kinda hard not to like, Armin.”

“I like you too,” Armin forces out. “Pretty much have since I met you.”

It’s not a confession that comes easily. His whole body is trembling (not just because he’s wet and cold), and he’s prepared for something that says it’s a joke. 

Instead, Marco’s eyes darken, and he tilts Armin’s chin up. “We should get you out of those wet clothes. You won’t warm up with them on.”

Then, Marco is kissing him. 

It’s the slow, building kind of kiss Armin’s never had before. He’s only kissed someone once before - Annie, a few years before, before he awkwardly told her he didn’t like girls that way. She’d been very understanding about it all, and in no time she’d started dating Bertholdt, Reiner’s best friend. Back then, despite Annie not being the submissive type, he’d definitely felt the pressure of taking control. 

It’s what he’d seen in all the films, after all. The man kissing the woman senseless. He’s also fairly sure the man wouldn’t lick the woman’s face in those, either, but that had been an accident.

This isn’t like that. Marco  _ consumes _ him whole, one hand on the back of his head, the other on his hip. He’s fairly sure he’s stunned into silence when Marco steps back and off to the side, replaced by Jean. This kiss is a little gentler, more of a cautious exploration. Armin jumps when he feels a body at his back, unbuttoning his shirt, and he pulls back from Jean’s lips, glancing over at Marco.

The freckled man smiles and lifts his head from Armin’s neck. “Might as well make use of the gift your friend generously gave you.”

_...And now I’m going to have to  _ **_thank_ ** _ him. _

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously tempted to write this as a full-length fic sometime. Or at least write Armin losing his virginity.


End file.
